Futile attempts
Why must a man survive the passing of a twister given total devastation just took everything from him? So, unnecessarily, I lie This fire of a head promises ashes I see no meaning –or I rather say– I know no meaning is a state of things, instrinsecally Futile attempts Weather will be stupid still for any poem to reflect us And the little pleasures end as soon as I aproach too much This place is no Venice but I smell the rotten air Plague of my days that only alcohol prevents me from aknowledging In such a capital way I cry no more but I'm about to burst in tears when nothing happens Yeah I’m feeling kind of... Send a hurricane of wine Send a full bottle of oblivion cause that way I won't recall this movie of mine that I just have to keep on watching All those scenes deleted All those actors leaving that I film in vain.
